The Dreamer 2

Chapter 5, Book 2 of The Dreamer
Lisette's Last Life and Mandy Molested by dolphininthesky

For the rest of my stories, click here /~dolphininthesky/

story code: Mf - massage, humil, enema, no(actual)sex

David was troubled by a great many things these days. Mostly, they concerned the dreams Lisette was having. But at the moment, the most 'pressing' matter was her soft, lithe body. It molded itself into his body, matching contour for contour. Her hands were curled around his middle and her face nuzzled into his neck. He'd discovered she sometimes dripped saliva when she was sleeping deeply. His neck felt wet. Having a pretty girl slobber all over you, he discovered, was not as gross as one might think.

These days, nothing could induce Lisette not to come to his bed. The strange dreams she'd been having frightened her, and she insisted on sleeping with David. After the first one, he'd actually seen with his own eyes several of the dreams she'd had. In the middle of the night, he would sense a tug in his mind, a sense of fear coming from Lisette - and he would rouse himself and enter her mind, where she was still dreaming. With him beside her, they would experience the dream together. Later, she would wake up crying, and he would stroke her hair and hug her till she quietened down.

Lisette always went to bed together with the twins, but about an hour later, after he too had turned in for the night, he would find her crawling under his covers. Usually, with her panties soaked. He had a rough idea what the three girls did in that one hour. She always let him into her mind unquestioningly, though he knocked first these days. He did promise her that, but it had now become a matter of necessity rather than choice. With her mind sufficiently strong, her mental energy unconsciously formed a barrier that barred an inquisitive intruder from waltzing in as he pleased.

This happened automatically once a certain level of energy was reached, as he found out from the Artifact, and from observing Mandy, Becky and Julie's progress. But when David asked, Lisette always opened her mind wide to him. She liked feeling his presence in her mind. He didn't actively rifle through her thoughts and memories of course - a girl needed her privacy (he never read Fiona and the twins' minds either), but he'd seen snatches of what she called 'playtime' with Beth and Anne - and his sister Fiona had actually been afraid of Lisette corrupting the twin girls with her worldly, 'big-city' ways. Hah! Quite the reverse was happening. Not that he minded. The alternative was that somewhere down the line, he would have to tell Lisette about the birds and the bees. No, no, the education she was getting from the twins was better, for David's sake.

Things were bad enough already. He was barely able to control himself on nights like these when he lay awake trying to fall asleep as Octopus Girl curled herself around him. From the amused looks and hidden winks he got over the breakfast table, he knew the twins and Fiona thought bedtime with Lisette was not the innocent affair it really was. His denial met knowing glances - oh sure, you didn't have sex, you merely lay with her - they seemed to say.

Tonight, she came to bed wearing a nightie that came down to her knee but it'd already hiked itself up to her waist by now and was probably going to be even further north by morning. Her panties felt damp as she pressed her soft crotch into his leg. Sometimes, she dreamed of 'playtime' and ground herself into his leg, or worse, into the lump in his shorts. Once, to his shame, he'd cum uncontrollably from the friction as she slid the soft centre of her girlhood up and down his rampant rod through the fabric of their bedclothes. His fluids soaked through both his shorts and her panties, juicing up the sleeping girl as she continued to grind herself into him unconsciously.

The following morning, he had been chatting with Fiona as she did the laundry, and she'd lifted up a pair of shorts and a pair of panties and placed them next to each other. Both were stained. And to David's horror, the shape of the stains matched! She only gave him a very knowing look, which was worse than if she'd actually said something. David had spluttered and stammered as he tried to explain it, but his sister merely laughed. She did believe him (though she didn't tell him that), unbelievable though his explanation was, since the cum stains would have been only on the panties if he'd been boning Lisette.

Right now, David was trying to think unsexy thoughts - he was never going to fall asleep if he kept on dwelling on the sensation of her body rubbing into his, or the ticklishness of her hair as it fell on his neck.

First on the list of unsexy thoughts were the hunters. Now, that was very unsexy. How had the hunters tracked him to his apartment that day? To this day, he could not answer that question. He'd been pretty sure he hadn't been followed back to the apartment. That part had been trivial. After all, it'd been the middle of the night when he got back and the streets were completely empty. Any car or person tailing him would have been completely obvious and visible.

At first, he thought that they'd somehow seen his car registration and used some method to get his address from the system. But they had waited till the next morning to attack. In fact, their actions in the morning seemed to indicate that they had known which building he was in, but not the exact apartment unit he lived in - so they couldn't possibly have known his address. They had been waiting in the street below, looking up, as though hoping to spot them through the windows - a hope Lisette had kindly fulfilled, though their expressions of gratitude had been rather hostile, to say the least.

But he and Lisette had been hiding out here for months now, and the hunters still hadn't tracked them down - and he thanked his lucky stars for that. In hindsight, hiding at his sister's farm was not a good idea -he didn't want to endanger Fiona or the twins in any way. But since there'd been no sign of the hunters, he thought they must have thrown them off their trail.

They hadn't seen any sign of that huntress either - the one who'd nearly perforated his body that night on Standard Hill. Now, that, was a fine-looking woman, David thought to himself. Unbidden, the memory of the huntress rose up, sword in hand, like an avenging angel. A very attractive one, at that. Tall, athletic, almost statuesque; shorts that clung like a second skin; a snug grey T-shirt caging in some very fine hooters; and a pair of very big shooters - Magnums, he thought they were, based on his TV education on guns and the glimpses he'd caught of them during that moonlit chase through the park. The huntress was as beautiful as she was deadly - the classic femme fatale. For a moment, he wondered how she kept her bountiful meatballs from swinging painfully when she chased and fought vampyrie. A very, very tight sports bra was his guess...

Hmm... he'd set out to think unsexy thoughts, but somehow he had come a full circle. Unfazed, the intrepid David set out again in search of more unsexy thoughts. And they came in a deluge -

Forgetting the hunters for the moment, he now had to consider the second group: the vampyrie. What he'd learned about them so far, came from Lisette's dreams. Her dreams were an enigma. He was completely sure that none of her memories had survived. He'd seen her blank mind countless times. It was as white and featureless as a polar landscape in a blinding blizzard. Whatever memories she had were completely new ones. The energy entity unleashed on her by the hunters had done its job only too well. So where had the dreams come from?

They were her dreams, David was sure. His first suspicion was that someone, a vampyrr perhaps, was somehow breaking into her mind and planting dreams there. But this was not possible since no one could get behind the barrier of mental energy she had developed naturally by now, unless she explicitly let them in. Also, David had been in her mind and seen those dreams himself. They were experienced from her perspective, and there were memories of the thoughts she'd been thinking at that time. They were too rich and detailed to be a fabrication or a mere dream - they were genuinely her memories. But where had they come from?

His attention then turned to the energy entity. He had lured it back to the Rune the hunters left on her and trapped it within. It was still there, a faded, strange-looking mark on the back of her left hand. It looked like a little tattoo, though much fainter. And within that innocuous prison, the dangerous entity remained - dormant, but very much alive. David had wondered if perhaps the memories still lived on inside the creature and had somehow escaped it and its prison and made its way back into Lisette's mind. But this was a little far-fetched, and as his mind probed the strange lines of the Rune, he found that it held firm - impermeable and impenetrable to any thought, energy or stray memory. So the source of her dreams remained as yet unknown.

But whilst the origins of these faint, fragmented, bits and pieces of her past were a mystery, the contents of these memories presented an even greater problem. Together with Lisette, he'd witnessed several of these dreams. And neither of them liked what they saw - they worried him, and they made her cry. The most startling realisation was that the vampyrie made no distinction between sexual energy and the rest of the host of energies that a body needed to function. All energy was pulled away from the bodies of many a doomed human, and absorbed into their Sources. 'Vampyrie' was not just a name - used perhaps to inspire fear in their enemies - like how sporting teams called themselves Such and Such Devils, or Such and Such Tigers.

Vampyrie they were called, and vampyrie, they truly were.

It would have been more humane if they had just killed their victims. But that was not the usual practice. It was too wasteful to kill a human by draining their energy completely. Far 'better' to drain them till they were within a hair's breadth of death, then leave them to recuperate until they were strong enough to be milked again. Each House kept hundreds of these slaves, caged up in pens like cows and goats. Her dreams also revealed a complex society of aristocrats - the Masters of Houses and their apprentices; their vassals; and their non-vampyrie servants and slaves.

Not understanding what he saw, David had turned to the Artifact, which threw a little light on the matter. It seems to us, that these vampyrie have forgotten the true ways of their ancient heritage, the Artifact said. It has long been established by the Imperial researchers that absorbing energies other than properly harmonized sexual energy could lead to an instability in their Sources in the long term. Only the harmony of energy obtained from the unity of male and female is mental energy in its purest form. Although, they could acquire large amounts of energy this way in a much shorter time, such energy would be impure, and difficult to control. Our analysis suggests that this may be a reason for their reduced life spans.

'Reduced life spans?' David asked. 'Didn't Lisette's dreams say that her Father was hundreds of years old?'

Yes, the Artifact replied. A most regrettably short-lived creature.

'Short-lived?' David said in disbelief.

Certainly. The energy users of our time - those aristocrats who served the Empire - lived for millenia. And as for the Emperor - his exact age has not been accurately known or estimated.

David was stunned. Hang on. Was the Artifact saying that if he - David Turner - didn't get killed first by hunters, possibly vampyrie, aliens, Agent Smith or otherwise Acts of God, he could live on indefinitely? And as for the present day vampyrie who absorbed all the energies in a human body and not just the sexual ones - they didn't seem to be getting too bad a deal either. Their progress was significantly accelerated, which could only be a good thing in their dog-eat-dog, or rather, vampyrr-eat-vampyrr-and-humans-and-possibly-hunters-unless-they-killed-you-first world that he saw in Lisette's dreams. And for that, they only got to live a few centuries. He could see why they had traded near everlasting life for at-the-moment survival.

The Artifact did mention though that they had perfected the 'art' of draining all the energy from another person, human or vampyrr. As far as it knew, doing so was a lengthy process. Being able to drain every last drop of energy in the matter of a minute or two was not in the knowledge of the ancients. It must have been a 'recent' development, something that happened after the fall of the Empire.

It was not merely a time-efficient method of collecting energy, but a terrifying weapon as well. Guns, swords, arrows and spears - all these could be dodged or deflected, especially when one was dealing with the speed and agility of hunters - whose terrifying physical prowess David had experienced firsthand as they pursued him that night on Standard Hill. (At this point, David was still unaware of the true speeds and power that vampyrie and hunters possessed. The mental energy of vampyrie gave their minds more control over their bodies than a normal human could achieve in a lifetime of training. The accuracy, speed and strength with which they fought could only be described as superhuman. Likewise, the hunters used Runes to draw natural energy from their surrounds into their limbs, augmenting their physical abilities, such that they were almost able to match the vampyrie.)

But from this 'energy drain', there was no escape. The power of the mind was used to draw those tendrils of biological energy away from one's body and into the vampyrr's Source. Human or superhuman, no one could match the speed of thought. The hunters had a Rune that sealed their minds from being entered and manipulated, but it was unable to protect their bodies from giving up its energy to a powerful vampyrr. There was no escape. Once the energy began to bleed from your body, the clock started ticking. Either you won the battle in the next few minutes or you would soon be too drained and exhausted to even fight. As Lisette's dream had observed, Lord Silfer would have taken half a minute to bleed someone dry, whilst his most senior Apprentice, Lucier, took a mere two and a half minutes.

A sudden murmur interrupted David's worried ruminations. He looked at the sleeping beauty in his arms. A little frown marred her otherwise flawless features. He sensed a sudden, gentle nudge in his mind, the mental equivalent of a little girl pulling at his sleeve to get his attention. Okay, he thought, so its begun again tonight....

His mind slipped into hers easily - or rather, she flung her mental door open, pulled him in hastily, clung on and wouldn't let go.

***

Earlier that evening, in a city not too far away...

The smell of lavender wafted by her nose. She was lying on her belly. She didn't want to open her eyes. The flimsiest of leotards draped her lithe body. A body that ached all over. And inhabiting that body, a mind like a pink, formless cloud - drifting aimlessly as it basked in the sun-like warmth. A warmth that blanketed her from aching neck, over her tortured back, and all the way down the length of her slender legs. She lay limp and motionless. She didn't feel like moving and even if she did, her body would have vetoed it. She made a little indentation on the padded bed or table or whatever it was she lay on. And all she wanted to do was collect in that indentation like a very calm and ripple-free puddle.

'Muhhhh....' she gave a little mewl as strong hands kneaded her thigh muscles. Those hands were warm and large, and they knew what they were doing. They slowly massaged their way along her legs, up her buttocks and over her back. Oh yesss... over her poor, abused back.... Some kind of sports cream or oil was being rubbed into her thighs and calves, soothing her overused hamstrings. Wherever the hand rubbed the oil, it left her skin feeling all hot and tingly. Her spasming muscles surrendered to the glorious heat from the oil that penetrated deep under her skin. Those dexterous fingers moved higher up, stroking first her inner thigh, and then, her butt cheeks. She felt the leotard being pulled aside. She didn't care. It felt so wonderful as her sweet tanned buns were pressed, squeezed and deformed in those hands. More oil anointed her skin. It ran down her pert, twin dunes in small rivulets, dripping into her ass cleft, slowly soaking and seeping through the crotch of her leotard and into the panties beneath.

The hands moved to her back. But unlike her legs, here, the leotard was very much in the way. The straps were pulled off her shoulder. Her arms were lifted so that they could be slipped off her. She felt the leotard being pushed lower, until it bunched up around her waist, baring her slender back. Her teenage breasts spilled out like large, juicy grapefruits. She lay prone with those pretty pods squashed and deformed under her own weight. Ohhhhh.... the hands ran over her sore back, slathering it with oil and rubbing it into her with firm, strong strokes. Then they worked her shoulders and her neck. It felt so goooddd...

Barely audible squeaks came from her throat as the hands worked their magic, leaving a trail of warm, fuzzy pleasure down her back. They came to her bum, where her leotard was pushed down her legs and finally removed completely, leaving that white, oil-soaked cotton rag that was formerly her panties as the last vestige of her girlish modesty. But the thin, white shred offered scant protection as the large hands toyed with her hillocks of pert adolescent babyfat. The massage oil made her bottom buns all sensitive, hot and tingly. The creamy meat spilled out between the tightly gripping fingers. Mandy gave a soft, plaintive whine. When finally released, her ass carried reddened hand prints.

The oil had been soaking into her panties for a while, and the absorbency of cotton had quite about reached its limit. Little droplets of the mildly medicated sports ointment escaped the fabric and dripped into the narrow furrow between her ass cheeks. A little seeped into the folds of her sex, but a more sizable quantity trickled past her tiny anal ring and into the darkened depths within. She hardly noticed it at first. But slowly, the oil began to cause her anus to tingle. The tingling grew in magnitude, making her shudder and squirm. The feeling was different, but not unpleasant. The tingling sensations and the strong kneading hands that continued to massage the breadth and length of her body were so good.... so, so goood... she must have died from doing the Bridge and gone to heaven....

The Bridge? It came back to her in a rush. Special detention. Gym. Handstand. The Bridge. Where the heck was she??? Her eyes fluttered open for the first time. She attempted to sit up but a world of pain greeted her. She slumped down heavily onto the padded surface she was lying on - more pain.

'Owwwwww....'

'Awake finally?' a low, deep voice said. Coarse and rough, nearing middle age. The deepness was like a bull bellowing. It bespoke of the large, muscled and bulky barrel chest from which it issued. A vaguely familiar voice. Her still befuddled mind searched for a face to match the voice. Oh. Him.

'Where? WhereamI?' she mumbled. Something soft was under her. And she smelt something like lavender.

'The nurse's office,' came the reply. Except that it was after hours and the school nurse, a kindly, motherly lady, had gone home already. She was getting her treatment from Mr. Barron. Shit! And the horny bastard had been touching her all over! The shock cleared her mind like frigid water poured over her head. She struggled to get up, but all her muscles were sore and every tendon complained. Weak as a kitten, she was no trouble at all for the strong gym teacher to press down onto the bed again. His palm, pressing gently into the small of her back pinned her exhausted and abused frame down onto the nurse's padded examination-table-cum-sick-bed-or-office-table (as the situation required) as effectively as a one ton load.

'Stop wriggling,' he commanded. 'I do sports massages all the time, so let's not have any false modesty from you, young lady. Are your cramps better now?' He didn't tell her that unless it was a foot or an arm, he only ever did sports massages for boys. The lady school nurse handled the girls. He'd wanted - lusted - to run his hands over her hot, supple flesh and the cramp had been a good excuse for that. He rationalised that it wasn't terribly inappropriate for a gym teacher to help a female student with her muscle cramps, especially since the nurse wasn't around to do it. With much self-control, he'd kept to massaging only her back and legs. He'd done her bum too, but he was almost certain she was still unconscious then. At least, as far as she knew, he'd been completely proper in his touches. What a pity she woke up so soon.

Lying helplessly on her belly, Mandy squirmed futilely. Shit. How had she gotten herself into this? This wasn't the plan. He was supposed to make them do a few embarrassing exercises where he got to see and maybe even feel them up a bit. And she was supposed to absorb as much sexual energy as she could from him. And then, he would let the two of them go home. Speaking of which, where was Ling? Had he done something to her? If he'd made fragile little Ling do the bridge, she would need back surgery, not a massage. Was she lying somewhere unconscious?

'Where's Ling?' she asked.

'Eh? She went home after you complained of cramps and I brought you here to treat you,' he said, his hands continuing to fondly fondle her shapely shanks. 'Hah, she seemed only too happy to escape detention early. I'll let you two off this time, but if there's ever a repeat, I'll make sure you two do the full gym detention!'

She didn't!!! Ling had abandoned a helpless, unconscious Mandy in the mandibles of perversion. Wait till she got her hands on that little... that little....

'AIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!' Mandy screeched in surprise and shock as a drop of sports oil that had been collecting near the entrance of her nether hole suddenly tipped itself over the edge and ran down the sides of her rectal passage. The oil that had seeped in earlier had done its work - it enveloped her anal tunnel in tingling heat, it relaxed the tense muscles of her butt and it made every nerve end in that pink bottom hole Super-Sensitive. As the new droplet suddenly trickled down that highly sensitized tunnel, the sensation was almost akin to her first ever anal fuck. Her hands flew to her bottom and she was about to slip them under her panties to rub her fiery arse when she realised she would be rubbing her anus in full view of her teacher. Seared with pleasure and pain, unable to do anything to alleviate her suffering, she whimpered helplessly, clutched her pantied ass cheeks and waggled her bottom from side to side in desperate frustration.

'What's wrong?' cried Mr. Barron, startled. Worry nagged at him. Whilst she had been unconscious, he'd given her a cursory check to make sure she really hadn't been badly hurt. He was pretty sure she wasn't - just some muscle cramps due to a stretching exercise that was a little more extreme than she was used to. Her young, teenaged body was a lot more flexible than she gave it credit for. But now, he wasn't so sure - her ear-splitting wail almost sounded like she'd been struck with a maiming injury.

She didn't answer immediately. Lying prone on the bed, her hands clutched and squeezed her rump and she wriggled it like her panties were on fire. Before Mr. Barron ask further, poor Mandy slipped her hands under her panties and pressed it into her ass cleft - she could stand the torment no longer. She had to rub it. 'Oh! Oh! OHHH!' the mere contact her fingers made with her anus made her jump and gasp as her puckered opening winked convulsively. As for putting her fingers inside to rub the itching, burning tunnel? That was simply out of the question - it would be like impaling her hole on a red-hot poker.

But what was this? Her fingers felt something slick, slippery and oily on her back door... an unknown liquid.

'What did you do to my bum??' she cried as she struggled to sit upright. But she suddenly realised that apart from her flimsy panties, she had nothing else on. She hastily lay down on her tummy again, hiding teenage titties under her. 'And clothes? My clothes?' she cried in anguish.

'What's wrong with your bum?' he asked, as baffled by her words as he was by her strange actions. Mr. Barron couldn't help staring. Her whole body twitched and squirmed so fetchingly, and those soft, delightful buns that he'd had the fortune to molest only minutes ago were now clenching and unclenching repeatedly in tormented spasms. His semi-hard lump was now fully rampant, an uncomfortable package in his tight shorts. His lust, barely restrained up till then, now broke out like a raging wildfire. Previously, he just wanted to cop a feel or two. Now, the sexual imperative wasn't going to let things slide so easily...

'Tingling! Itchy!' she gasped. 'Its... its all hot and tingly and its so sensitive that its painful! And itchy, its itching so baddd....' she whined despairingly. Pain soon dulled to a barely heard murmur in the background. It was the ticklish, tingly, itchy warmth that had spread throughout the length of her shitter that tormented her poor, wretched soul. She wanted to scratch the itch, but the hand that she'd slid under her panties couldn't even touch her anus without making herself shudder, for the medicated sports oil had made her tender little hole hypersensitive. She couldn't not move, her body squirmed automatically at the ticklish torture. But even the barest movement she made caused rectal wall to rub against highly sensitized rectal wall, sending thrills down her spine, and whimpers up her throat.

But what was most distressing of all was the all too familiar feeling that was beginning to well up inside. As surely as the faint rumbling of distant thunder brings a storm in its wake, the stirrings inside were harbinger to a drenching sexual tempest that she knew beyond doubt would erupt inside her if this continued. For weeks, she had been denied of the steady diet of buggering that David made sure she got when he was around. The itch she felt was not unlike that nagging need in her anus that she had been complaining to Becky about. But it was oh, so much more intense.

Clad only in the thin, semi-transparent, white strip of cloth wrapped around her loins; lying prostrate and defenseless; her lissome body glistening with the oily mixture that was the source of her woes, Mandy had never been more vulnerable in her life. 'Stop looking at me!!!!' the agonized girl squealed, as she realised that Mr. Barron, who was standing beside the table on which she lay, was staring at her with a frightening animal intensity in his eyes and a carnivorous smile on his lips - pointed teeth, pointed intent.

Mr. Barron looked away quickly. He rummaged around his lust-fogged mind for a reason why she was complaining of itchiness in her bottom. Suddenly, something occurred to him. He grabbed the bottle of massage oil that he'd been using. They were out of the usual stuff he used and he'd bought this one instead. It smelt pretty good, but he wasn't sure how well it worked. He squinted at the fine print.

'Ah, I see...' he said, understanding slowly dawning across his face.

'What is it? What is it?' Mandy said. Panicking and racked by shuddering spasms that choked her tormented senses, she was close to tears already. She reached out and snatched the bottle from his hands. It read:

Introducing NewAgeAthlete's^TM

Sports Massage Oil
Let the mild, soothing heat and tingling sensation melt away your pain!!
New: Now with lavender fragrance!!!
Relieves and prevents cramps and muscular stiffness. Massage and deep heat all in one.
Warning: Keep away from eyes and sensitive areas. Not to be consumed.
NewAgeAthlete is a division of SnakeOil Pharmaceuticals Inc.

Sensitive areas. Shit! Or more precisely, where it came from. Her anus. The insides of her suffering anus. And to a lesser degree, the little pink folds of her sex. Her panties felt damp and slightly oily. As she had lain there on her tummy, he had massaged her and the massage oil had dribbled down her ass cheeks, onto her panties, soaked right through them, and started dripping onto her sensitive areas. The skin on her back, neck and legs felt a tingling too, wherever the teacher had rubbed the oil. But it was a pleasant, relaxing warmth compared to the fiery itchiness deep inside her ass. Thank goodness only trace amounts had gotten onto her little pussy.

'Shit! Shit! What am I going to do??' she cried, her hands holding her ass as she squirmed on the bed. It was like a million nasty ants swarming up her rectum, their tiny, prickly feet tickling every nook and cranny, their horrible little jaws biting parts of her that had never seen the light of day. The longer it continued, the more the prickling, tingling itch intensified. She thought of getting to a doctor, but she could hardly move without collapsing - it was like having intense pins and needles inside her ass. It only seemed to get worse, so she couldn't sit there and wait till it went away. Yes, poor Mandy would have traded her soul for some relief. But there was none in sight. Except, maybe....

'Do something!!! Help me!!!!!' she said pleadingly, looking at her coach in desperation. Never mind that it was his negligent application of the oil that had caused this in the first place. Never mind that the horny pervert was probably aching to get his hands on her. She needed help. Relief. Right now. Anyone would do. She'd have inked a contract with the Devil without a second thought if she thought it would take away the horrible itch and prickling pain inside.

Mr. Barron was beside himself with lust. The distressed teenager was practically begging him to get inside her panties, inspect her cute openings and molest her cute little shitter. He'd have to figure a way of soothing her itching hole. Maybe he could wash it out with soap and water - he wasn't sure. But one thing he was sure of was that he'd get to manhandle her little holes. The very thought made the gym coach's crotch swell and twitch in excited anticipation. The white shorts he wore could barely contain the very urgent package within.

Mandy let out a surprised squeak when a strong hand suddenly gripped her waist. She was speedily divested of her last morsel of clothing. She protested loudly as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp. 'Wa... what are you doing? Sto... stop... stop this at oncAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!' With a crack, he gave her a spank. She found out, the hard way, that the massage oil had made her bum skin, and probably every inch of skin it'd been lathered on, more sensitive than usual.

'Stop moving!' he rebuked her sharply. His eyes were glued to her bum, which his little spank had made to wobble enticingly. Those things had a lot of bounce in them, he noted. Very elastic, indeed. He was never one for science subjects, but he suddenly wanted to take out his stopwatch (with which he timed sporting events) to measure and record the period and amplitude of the harmonic motion of her springy ass.

'You just asked me to take a look and make it stop itching didn't you? Didn't you??' he asked sternly. Poor Mandy was too dazed to think. The exhaustion and soreness from her special gym detention; the maddening itchiness in her posterior; and a growing sensual fervor that refused to back down no matter how she tried to quench it - all these formed a potent combination that muddled and befuddled her. 'Didn't you?' he asked again. She nodded her head slightly. Then shook her head. Then nodded again. She didn't know. She didn't want him touching her like that. But he was the only one who could help, wasn't he?

Mr. Barron smiled to himself . By her own admission, he was merely doing as she requested and helping her wash out the irritant in her bum. Strong hands pushed Mandy into a crouch, with her buttocks lifted high into the air. She felt Mr. Barron's hands pulling her ass cheeks apart as he inspected her itchy parts closely. Oh, the embarrassment she felt - she coloured up like an incandescent bulb, glowing red hot. She'd never been exposed like that to anyone - except David. But her teacher was the only one who could help, so she swallowed her pride and modesty, and didn't let out a peep of protest.

She shuddered and nibbled her lip. 'Uhh....' a little moan escaped her as she felt a finger casually dragged across the brownish, crinkly skin of her bung hole. Coach Barron saw nothing wrong with her rear. In fact, he saw a lot of right. Her girly parts were like Baby Bear's porridge - just right. Perfect, pink, puckered pooper between lush, luscious, lovely lumps. Further to the front, was a single, sexy slit - a most salacious and sensual sight. The only sign of her troubles was the oily sheen covering her skin, where the massage oil had soaked through her panties. Some of which must have dripped into her poop chute. Little wafts of lavender fragrance reached his nose - he was glad he'd used the new stuff he bought on her. The scented massage oil made her smell every bit as delectable as she looked. He intimately ran his finger over the crinkled skin, causing her anal aperture to open like a flowering bud, then close shyly again with girlish modesty. His touch made her bum cheeks tighten, whilst further up front, her sweet beaver quivered. He'd heard that suppressed moan too. What a little slut, he grinned to himself.

'You say it feels prickly and sensitive inside your, ah, rectum?' he asked. She nodded in reply and he said, 'Well, I'll have to wash the insides and outsides with soap and water. I doubt nurse keeps stuff for properly douching your backside here, but I'll see what I can do.'

Mr. Barron hunted around for a minute. There wasn't any proper equipment of course - why would a school nurse do enemas in her office? So the stuff he scrounged up would have to suffice. When he returned to the bed cum examination table, the schoolgirl was exactly as he'd left her: crouched with her haunches raised and her head whining softly as she rested it on her forepaws - just like a bitch in heat. Coach Barron chuckled softly to himself.

Mandy was wishing her gym teacher would hurry up. How had she ended up like this?? It was the most humiliating experience of her life. But she had little choice. She could hardly move without setting off a feeling much like severe pins and needles, only in her hot, sensitive bum. Walking home in this condition would see her collapsing before she reached the door. With classes long over, there was no one else in the deserted school compounds. No nurse, no female teacher, not even a friend she could trust... As for that last one, she was thinking to herself, 'Wait till I get my hands on Ling-Ling!'

As for all her newly learned mental tricks, she could barely think straight much less focus her mind sufficiently to use them. She was feeling very uneasy about trusting the perverted gym teacher with the intimate anal cleaning she needed. But every time she attempted to concentrate and read his thoughts, some random soul-shuddering twinge deep in the recesses of her rectum would throw her off completely, sending her body into paroxysm and pushing her mind off the brink of sanity and into lala-land. As for all those grand designs she had for profiting from his energy, well, she'd be lucky if she didn't make a loss - the loss of her virginity. But she knew he must be pumping out copious amounts of sexual energy. In her disoriented state, even her dulled mental senses could somehow feel it faintly, so he must have been have been absolutely blazing with energy. And that male energy was having an undeniable effect on her female instincts as the tendrils of raw sexual power writhed in the air, creeping over her body, stroking it, caressing it, making her excited despite her best efforts. She often used her own female energies to arouse males, so she was painfully aware of what his sexual energies must be doing to her.

She waited impatiently. The sensations were driving her crazy and she was almost going to contemplate sticking her finger into her bum and scratching herself. She knew that her hypersensitive tunnel would make it feel like ramming a broom handle up her arse, but the hellish itchiness was tormenting her beyond what she could tolerate. Just then, she felt a large, blunt object press into her oily anus without warning. It pushed hard, slipping in as her anal ring expanded. It slid deep inside and began wiggling around. Her vision exploded in red.

'AAAAAGHHHHHHHH... ahhhhaaaa..... stooo... Stopppp! Stop!' she sobbed. Burning. Hotness. She squirmed and tried to crawl away but a strong hand grasped a thigh and pulled her back. She could tell it was a finger because she'd had David's finger up her nether flower more times than she could count. But this was so much more painful and humiliating. The sensitivity of her internal walls was magnified tenfold, and what was more, it was her teacher's large, fat finger inside her! Suddenly, the finger was withdrawn. She gasped in relief. But immediately, something large and cold was pressed into her bum.

'Wha.. wha?' Her entire body clamped down tightly, ejecting the foreign object vehemently. She twisted her head round to look wide-eyed at Mr. Barron. She shook her head fearfully, a tear running down her cheek.

'You want to wash it out don't you?' he said as he threw his hands up in feigned exasperation. His hands were slick and sudsy with soap. She realised then that the invading finger earlier had been him soaping up her insides. And the large, cold object was the plastic nozzle of a rubber hose that he'd connected to a faucet on the large, metal sink that was built immediately beside the bed. He wasn't molesting her? He was really helping her wash it out? Oh! She blushed as she realised she'd misunderstood him. But how it had hurt. Still, it was the only way. A bitter pill, but good medicine.

'Come one, we haven't got all day. Open up and let me stick it deep inside...' Mr. Barron said, secretly laughing at her discomfort and at his own little private joke. She sighed and hung her head resignedly. She gave up. Anything would be better than the ticklish anus torture she'd been experiencing for the last ... she didn't know... was it fifteen minutes? Twenty? It felt like an eternity. This was for her own good anyway.

Docilely, she allowed her teacher to insert the plastic hose nozzle into her. She did her best to relax her anal muscles in spite of the discomfort she felt. It slipped inside and her sphincter muscles immediately gripped it tightly, sealing it inside her humid cavity. It didn't feel that large when she got used to it, especially when compared with the velvety, pulsating flesh she usually accommodated inside when David was around. But it was hard. And cold. But she found out she didn't know what cold was until Mr. Barron turned on the tap.

'AAARRRGGGHGHHHHHH..... COLLDDDDD!!!!' she screamed as her body thrashed and twisted like a spirited bronco. Mr. Barron caught her just in time and restrained her in his strong arms to prevent her jerking body from pulling the hose out of her ass. The water was icy. It wasn't just any cold. It was iceberg cold. Frigid. Frozen. Polar. She whimpered as she squirmed helplessly in those arms.

'Haha... it takes a little time for the warm water to start flowing. I should have tested the temperature first,' said Mr. Barron, leering at her evilly. He knew full well how cold it was of course. Poor Mandy whined. Her tummy was cramping from the icy water that was filling her colon. The pressure built up inside until it became terribly uncomfortable. But at least it no longer tickled. The itch was now a cramping freeze. Finally, Mr. Barron turned the faucet off and pulled the plastic nozzle out. It came out with a pop, and a little liquid gushed out before her anus clenched shut again. Her whole body spasmed. She shook her head in an attempt to let out her frustration, her pretty locks falling all over her face.

'Get your butt over here,' said the sadistic gym teacher, pointing to the sink beside the bed. It was built right up against it, so Mandy could scoot over, and perch her bum over the sink without leaving the bed. No sooner had her arse been positioned over the metal sink did Mandy let it go. All at once. A blast of brownish fluid flooded the sink. As it flowed freely out of her, a happy, contented expression was on Mandy's face. Finally, the filthy tide ebbed, and it did so with a series of loud farts. Mr. Barron chuckled. 'Better out than in, eh?' he said in an infuriatingly chatty manner, making Mandy cringe in abject humiliation. The expression on Mandy's face was priceless.

But with the departure of the water, her mind was suddenly clear. The itch was very much reduced. The cramp, the deep-freeze of her innards - she was relieved of it all. Clarity of mind returned, and with it, more shame than she could endure. She realised that she'd just farted loudly and passed out all that dirty water before her teacher's unblinking eyes. She realised also, that sitting upright with her ass balanced on the edge of the sink and her legs still on the bed, her front was completely exposed. Her hands hastily covered her breasts and crotch. Her ears, neck and cheeks were a burning scarlet sunset. She opened her mouth to say something but before any words came out, Mr. Barron sprayed her posterior with more icy water, washing away the filth and dirt. Her body danced, her hands forgot to cover herself and her breasts now swung freely in the sight of all and sundry as the frigid waters blasted her. She yipped and yelped from the cold and the shame. Goose pimples rose all over her naked body. The cold, dark depths of utter shame; humiliation, crimson, fiery and burning; embarrassment, total, complete and all-pervading - none of these could come close to conveying what she felt.

Mr. Barron didn't let her rest for even a second. Turning off the faucet, he suddenly grabbed her body. 'What are you doi - ahhh... Oh Oh Oh Ohh!' she squealed. He'd cut her protests short with a single soapy finger thrust unceremoniously up her bottom again. 'Sit still,' he said firmly. 'You behave as though you don't want me to wash the oil out. Do you like the itching that much?' he continued, mocking her. He sawed a long, fat finger in and out, lewdly stretching and distending her teenie ass. He finger-fucked her adolescent anus with the soap as lubricant.

She half knelt on the bed and half sat on his hand, which was vigorously moving as it plugged and popped a rude middle finger in and out of her sore ass. Mandy's mind began to cloud over again as a whole barrage of sensations assaulted her. With horror, she felt the hard drug of pleasure surging on the waves of fluid warmth that flowed through and tantalized her bum. The polar waters that froze her innards moments ago had washed away the horrid itchy oil. Previously, her oil-tainted bum had been painful and sensitive. Now it was just sensitive. Sensitive to every molestation that his finger could give. When he waggled his thick finger inside, she swooned. When he rubbed her internal walls, her whole body went limp, her neck felt like a wet noodle, and her head lolled for want of support before it finally came to rest on his shoulder - oh how she cursed her own weakness. Her spine felt like boiled spaghetti and she leaned against his broad and firm chest without meaning to, her fingers clutching at his arm, at the shirt he wore. The itchiness in her interiors was still there, though somewhat reduced - and he was scratching it so beautifully.

What was more, a large part of her involuntary arousal stemmed from the very male sexual energy that she had sought. Her gym teacher was like a walking furnace of energy. The buildup within him bubbled over and expelled jets of energy that flared from his body in massive ejections that enveloped her nearby body. Too often, Mandy had mentally sent out tendrils of her own female energy in the direction of unsuspecting males, causing their bodies to respond involuntarily at the touch of her unseen fibres of desire. She had a good dose of her own medicine as Mr. Barron's flaring arousal shrouded her in a storm of male desire, provoking an uncontrollable upsurge of little girl horniness. Her treacherous girlish lusts launched a bloody coup d'etat as it battled with her for control. It was a civil war she could not afford to lose - losing meant spreading her slender legs for teacher to rape as he pleased.

'Uh... ah, ah, ah,.... nggghhh.' His ministrations yielded little kittenish mewls from her. Her body, pressed into her gym teacher's hard pecs, heaved as she gasped and sobbed . Her pleading, teary eyes beseeched him to stop, but her body, in particular, her bum, said otherwise, as it embraced the invading finger seductively like an overly affectionate harlot. Her mind was like wobbling, quivering jelly. She'd had a brief moment of clarity earlier just after he'd douched her the first time. But it was gone now as he roughly fingered her bum on the pretext of soaping it up again. Lust poured into our little schoolgirl, making her body twist feverishly, making her nipple buds pop out as though in welcome of the inappropriate touches - those hard nubs scratched at the sex-maddened gym teacher's chest through the fabric of his T-shirt. Lust, crimson and beguiling, flooded her immature sex, and seduced her anus into yielding up its hidden treasures to teacher's hand.

Still, it was better than the itch and the pain that had tormented her hellishly before. Lust, she could handle. After all, when she absorbed male energy, she had to combine it with her own female sexual desire before her Source devoured it. To produce that female energy meant that she had to be at some stage of arousal as she drew male energy to herself to feed on, so she was not unused to its distractions. Now, after the total helplessness of her earlier ordeal, she could finally concentrate enough to gather her thoughts, albeit with some difficulty. The first thing she needed to do was to find out what Mr. Barron was thinking - was he planning to rape her? - that was the most pressing question. If she could only muster enough mental strength to get into his mind, she would know. Mandy feared what she might find. With her best efforts, she might even be able to plant second thoughts in his mind. Thoughts of the police swarming over his house, wrestling him into handcuffs; how the courts would put him away for a long, long time. But she wasn't sure how successful she would be - her earlier attempt at convincing him to let her off doing the Bridge had been a spectacular flop. A flop that landed her in her present situation.

Her head still lolled weakly on his broad shoulders even as her forehead wrinkled up in determination. With all her powers of concentration, Mandy was able to ignore momentarily the aching need in her feminine soul; the feverish hunger for her empty orifices to be filled; the tingling her entire body felt that was due, as much to the oil massaged into her sore muscles, as to her ardent desire. She could, just for a little longer, fight the complete exhaustion that came from the torture her body had gone through - a long, full day of school; twenty laps round the gym; handstands; the Bridge (she shuddered); not to mention the torment of the oil in her ass; and getting her insides sprayed with water piped from the Artic sea. Pulling mental energy frantically from her Source, in a last, desperate bid to liberate herself from the claws of this brute, her mind mustered every last bit of strength she had for the great offensive. This was it - the glorious last stand of Amanda Watson. Guts or glory. Her mind left its mortal shell as it soared free - high, fast and flaming, like a mortar shell - penetrating Mr. Barron's mind until it breached its way into his deepest thoughts.

Big, big mistake.

( Narrator : In theory, the premise of mind control assumes that the stronger mind controls the weaker mind. What David taught her was not precisely mind control. Mind linking is perhaps a more accurate description. By opening a link to another mind, they were able to read and influence someone else. But that influence came from the fact that the 'linkee' was unaware of the linker. Such a linkee trusts implicitly, every thought and emotion that germinates in its hapless, unsuspecting mind. It believes it is its own idea, that it does such and such a thing, or feels such and such a way. Sometimes, if the thought is too out of character, it reacts in horror, and pushes it away from its mind as an aberrant, wayward idea. But if the thought persists for long enough, even the most determined linkee is soon worn down and embraces the thought, albeit reluctantly. Many readers would know what I am talking about. But more often than not, the mind is accustomed to accepting such a suggestion without a second thought and acting on it. It is the notion of trust. We trust that our thoughts are our own. Such trust is misplaced.

But we digress. Such a mental link between minds works both ways. The linkee's feelings and thoughts flow backwards and are experienced by the linker - i.e. mind reading. Since the linker is generally aware that these backflowing thoughts are not his own, he can filter them out and discount them from any decisions he makes. The linkee on the other hand, is wretchedly ignorant of this and as discussed earlier, accepts the thoughts sent to him from the linker as his own. So one could argue that in such a situation, the linker has the upper hand, and is thus the 'stronger' mind, that controls the 'weaker' linkee. Thus, in such a case, we have successful 'mind control'.

This was not the case with Mandy Watson and Coach Barron. Pushed to her limits, both in her body and her mind, our teenage heroine was at her most vulnerable moment. Mr. Barron, however, was at his peak - his body was pumped up in an adrenalin high; his mind was unwavering in its intent; and it was a mind jam-packed, bulging and overflowing with only one emotion - Lust. The stronger mind has the advantage. That advantage, Mandy did not at the moment, have. )

The moment they linked, it seemed as though fire surged into her mind. Caught off guard and unprepared, the lust hit and rolled over her like a tank. Her resistance fell like an imploding Communist regime; like the Berlin wall; like Microsoft shares at Bill Gate's retirement party (not that all three are that similar. Or dissimilar). Mr. Barron's lust injected itself into her little teenage psyche, searing through her like five shots of tequila on a chilly night, and blowing the fragile synapses of her brain just as effectively. Her mind reeled and she frantically disconnected from Mr. Barron's mind. But it was too late.

Her teacher's horniness drowned her own pitiful resistance in one mighty deluge. Her eyes rolled upwards and she gave a childish peep as she came. The air was knocked out of her lungs and her sight dimmed momentarily. Somewhere in her fogged up mind, she scolded David - it was all his fault! He'd been the one who kept trying to make her cum just from the sensations in her ass, rather than her cunny. Now she was going to .. oh... oh..ohhh..... she was going to do him proud.... aahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

In the midst of the roiling waves of her orgasm, her awareness heightened suddenly as she became aware of a tidal wave of sexual energy towering over her. Oh shit! She realised it was her teacher - he was cumming too. It was an explosion of blue energy such as she had never seen. It leapt from his body onto hers, enshrouding her in a web of St. Elmo's fire, crackling and arcing in a cerulean onslaught. Mr. Barron saw none of the energy exchange of course, all he knew was that he was cumming so powerfully his knees nearly buckled under him. Mandy's mental senses, however, were blasted into saturation, blinding her mind with white fog. Instinctively, she pulled the surging tide of energy inwards. Her own flaming pink tendrils of desire rose up to meet his in an ethereal dance. Caught in the upsurge, Mandy's Source bathed in the light of the energy released as the two giant tides of male and female desire mated.

Drunk. She was drunk on pleasure and power. Pleasure - orgasmic, bewitching and sublime. Power - ablaze, radiant, like a raging ocean of light within her Source. Better men and women had failed to resist that potent potion. Presidents, leaders, heroes and saints had succumbed to its seductive draught. Who was the little schoolgirl to fight it? It caught her by surprise, swept her away, drowned her in its overwhelming embrace.

As Mr. Barron molested his student into an orgasmic rage, he realised two amazing things. The first - he was cumming, and the second - she was cumming. He realised that his cock was jerking and spurting crazily in an overload of lust, just from seeing her cum. Mr. Barron held fast the little teen as she screamed, squirmed, squealed, and in general, behaved like a fat little piglet that was about to be turned into ham. The gym coach had good reason to be surprised. Screaming and squirming he was used to. Women did that all the time with him; usually, they kicked and scratched and bit too. Except that she wasn't doing that. Rather, she started wriggling her ass and bucking on his finger of her own accord; cumming enthusiastically as his finger roughly abused her innocent bung hole.

In sex, Mr. Barron was not a man who cared about anyone's pleasure but his own. Women who called him a brute did so rightly. His method was to open their legs and punch his cock in repeatedly until he spent himself. He did this with as much romance and tenderness as a piston fucking the cylinder of an engine block. At least the piston cared whether the hole was sufficiently lubricated. To make matters worse, he had an amazing stamina and could go on for hours, until he'd pummeled the poor woman unconscious with his thick, fat sausage. It was all about him; women occupied the same level in his mind as rubber fuck dolls. It was probably not surprising that his reputation preceded him and he'd not gotten laid for a long time now.

Seeing the hot schoolgirl reciprocating his fingerfucking with bucking hip motions was like someone watching the Northern Lights for the first time - as startling as it was beautiful. It gave him a perverse pleasure he'd never known before, pleasure enough to make totally him lose control. Looking at the blissful agony on her face, Mr. Barron could not help laughing in his mind - heh heh, so you like that, do you? What a little slut! He groaned through the mad grin on his face as his cock, still trapped in his shorts, spurted wildly. Dazed and dazzled, Mandy's mouth flapped open and shut in confusion and her body jerked spasmodically, as the helpless, hapless nymphet let the big, brutish teacher continually assault her pretty anus with a bearish paw.

It was a surreal experience for both of them. For Mr. Barron, he never imagined he'd feel such satisfaction from seeing someone else satisfied. And for Mandy, a mix of delight and horror churned in her stomach as her traitorous senses reacted to the desecration of her body by some hairy, old pervert (forty was ancient to a girl of tender fourteen). And his throbbing, cumming cock was pressed hard against her thighs, with only the fabric of his shorts separating them. She could feel his sperm soak through the cloth, leaving a slimy trail of defilement on her skin.

Shit! her mind moaned. This was it. She was so going to get raped. Moving any part of her exhausted body felt like moving lead. If he wanted to take her now, she would only be able to lie there and let him. Worse, she had a terrifying suspicion that she might enjoy it. She felt him push her backwards onto the bed. He reached for the nozzle of the hose and without ceremony, plugged her backhole once more. 'Ahhh!' she cried out in surprise. The water was pleasantly warm now. Thermal currents swirled inside her colon, balmy and pleasant. It was like a steaming shower after a long, cold day; a shower for her poor, abused anus. Her eyes closed and she sighed in joy. The water stopped and the nozzle was removed, her belly swollen with a lovely warmth.

Too wiped out to move anymore, she could only emit a little groan as his hands slipped under her arms and hauled her over to the sink for her final purge - whoooshhh the water exited her, carrying the last of NewAgeAthlete's^TM potent oils from her colon. Mandy's muscles relaxed as she the pressure in her belly ease. Suddenly, alongside the rude gushing sounds of the water flushing out of her rectum, came a polite little tinkle. She looked down frantically to find her cute little urethral opening squirting like a golden fountain. An elegant thread of pearls arced through the air before hitting the metal sides of the large sink. The poor girl had never been so degraded in all fourteen years of her life - when her muscles had relaxed, it had relaxed not only her bowel muscles but the ones controlling her bladder as well. Blushing hard, she looked up to see Mr. Barron transfixed by her slit as it wept tears of gold.

As the waters ebbed, Mr. Barron cleaned her outsides with warm water, letting the hose spray her intimates. Her mind was mush and she cooed like a happy baby as the teacher's hands rubbed and scrubbed, cleaning her backside. She was thoroughly rinsed, then dried off with a hand towel. The rough cloth played havoc with her senses as her anus was still sensitive from the oil and all the abuse it had been getting from Mr. Barron's questing fingers.

Suddenly, his hands left her. 'Okay. We're finished' he said with a sigh - was it relief or, more likely, disappointment? Mandy looked up, her eyes wide in disbelief. 'We... we're done?'

Her gym teacher folded his arms and looked at her, saying, 'Well, I've treated your cramps, and then helped you with your little.. ah.. problem with the massage oil, just as you asked me to.' Mandy's mouth opened and then shut again. Now that she thought about it carefully, at no point had Mr. Barron touched her cunny, or even her nipples (apart from an 'accidental' brush or two - but then, that was understandable since he'd been hauling her exhausted ass to the sink and helping her sit up straight) She had climaxed on his finger, but that was her problem. He'd climaxed too, she knew, but his spurting tool had remained firmly in his pants, and she would not have known had she not felt his sexual energy peak as he came.

She couldn't believe it - it was as he said. If it came to it, he could get away with explaining how he had just been massaging a student's cramped muscles and merely washing her bum after a little accident with the massage oil - slightly inappropriate, but nothing sexual was meant about it and no harm done. In fact, she'd been so tormented by the tingly itchiness at that time that she'd practically begged him to touch and clean her ass.

'Unless you want to resume your interrupted gym detention.... I don't see why we're not done,' said he a little mockingly. His foot tapped as though he was waiting impatiently for her to leave.

'No, no.... nothing of that sort, sir,' she hurriedly said as she struggled to get up. 'Um... ' she looked around, scratching her head. Where were her clothes? The leotard lay in a ruined puddle on the floor. She was bare naked before her teacher, but he'd already seen and touched her so intimately now, covering herself with her hands at this point would be but false modesty. Still, she felt she had to do it, so she did her best to shield her budding breasts and smooth pudenda from his eyes.

'Um...,' she swallowed nervously, 'I think my clothes are still in the girl's locker room. Um... '

'Don't worry, the school is completely empty at this time. Just run along now, I'm sure you won't meet anyone on the way.'

Mandy left hurriedly, one hand pressed to her breast and another one modestly covering her bare cunny. She didn't want to stay another minute - what if he changed his mind? The hallways and byways were deserted as he said. Still, running through the chilly corridors of her school as naked as the day she was born made her face and ears flush with embarrassment.

Much later, after retrieving her clothes, catching a bus and reaching home just in time for dinner, after showering and changing - as she lay on her bed behind a locked bedroom door, Mandy fingered her little teenage cunny as she reviewed the day's events. It was still quite unbelievable how he'd let her go - she had been pretty much convinced that he was going to take her there and then. His lust had been like a mountain, his desire, an ocean. But in spite of it all, he'd somehow managed to restrain himself.

What kind of man was this? Why hadn't he thrown caution and consequence to the wind and pounded her needy little cunny? Not that she was one to question the miracle that had been her salvation, but it intrigued her. She remembered the things she'd found out earlier about her teacher; how he'd never been any good with women in bed, how he'd not gotten laid for almost a year; and how he steadfastly refused to masturbate or call a hooker, preferring instead to bottle it up inside. She thought that it was for this last reason that he had so much energy inside him - how she'd feasted today at the moment of his orgasm!

Was the self-control he exercised in bottling up his horniness day after day the reason he'd been able to stop himself from taking her, she wondered. He puzzled her, and she toyed with the thought of finding out more. She shivered. Somehow, she wanted to feast on his energy again. In fact, she wanted him to stick his finger up her again - she'd been feeling so empty and needy there without David around to fill it. Her teacher's big, waggly finger hadn't been as good as David's thick, long and pretty cock, but it was much better than her own slender, girlish one. Mmmmm.... she wondered what Mr. Barron's cock looked like. Or how it would feel....

As these naughty thoughts played out in her mind, little Mandy fingered the sticky bit of candy between her twitching thighs till she bucked and bucked and finally fell asleep.

***

The graceful, dappled mare below her whinnied its impatience. It didn't like standing around waiting. Fresh, crisp mornings like these were made for hurtling through the woods and fields at full gallop. She stroked its sides absentmindedly to calm it. She was dressed sensibly in riding breeches and boots, and a light coat kept her warm. She'd cut her silvery hair short, like a boy's, the day she turned thirteen. It was so much more convenient this way although Father had frowned and said she looked the proper tomboy. On the side of her saddle hung a four-foot hunting spear, and by her waist, an original Derringer, ornate and gilded with gold.

The ancient sport of the Hunt was not without its traditions. Spears were used, either thrown or thrust with the hand. When the prey was brought down, it was finished off with the ancient, single-shot Derringer pistol pressed to its head. These traditions were rather silly, Lisette thought, and it reflected how her people loved clinging to customs many centuries out of date. And understandably so. Many of them had been around when people still hunted with spears. Even the antique pistol probably looked fancy and new-fangled in those eyes that had watched the passing centuries.

Her servant girl, Mina, sat on another horse to her left, a bundle of short spears in hand. Her duty was to follow her Mistress during the hunt, ready to pass a new spear to her if she threw or dropped the current one. Mina was in her early twenties; young, fit and pleasant looking. She was dressed in similar riding gear, the black, leather collar around her neck being the only indication that she was a servant. Such a collar was for the benefit of other servants and slaves of course. A vampyrr could tell another energy user apart from a normal human without even looking - there was that unmistakable aura of power and energy blazing from a vampyrr's mind.

She had met Mina some years ago in a certain courtyard where five vassals were making sport of her. Now, the girl served as her personal maidservant; a much better position to be in than a slave. A slave was a piece of meat, reared for food. A servant was more useful and correspondingly, better treated. Many humans, even influential figures in human society, secretly wore brand marks on their buttocks, marking them as servants of some vampyrr. Each servant was branded on their buttocks, with a hot iron, like cattle. But the brand marks were more than just a mark of ownership. It was a rune, an ancient sigil handed down since time immemorial, not unlike the symbols the hunters from the Fellowship of Man used. This brand was like a lock that guarded the servants' minds from intrusion by anyone other than its master or mistress. Certainly, it was very useful, given that rival Houses secretly schemed and plotted and connived against each other all the time; you did not want the servants who were privy to your secrets to be an open book to any vampyrr he met.

Such servants rendered services that ranged from influencing governments and public opinion in a direction that suited their masters, managing the vast financial interests their masters might have and, in the case of Mina, a personal valet to her mistress, the heiress of House Silfer. Yes, human servants were decidedly useful, a matter illustrated by a recent event she'd overheard Father discussing with the Lucier. They'd been laughing at how they'd recently persuaded human governments to include the Fellowship of Man on the list of terrorist organisations. It hadn't been too difficult, given the number of servants embedded in every political party and bureaucratic system from the US to the EU to the UN. Such irony, that the very humans the Fellowship protected were baying for their blood. Which just goes to show, as Father always said, humans are a wretched and pitiful species, stupid and helpless, fit only for the nourishment of their betters.

The Fellowship. Lisette said the name softly under her breath. The mare between her legs snorted as though it felt the same disgust its mistress did. The Fellowship of Man was almost as old as the vampyrie. It was said that some thirty generations ago (one vampyrie generation being - say, three hundred years), all life lived under the rule of one vampyrr - the Emperor of all the Earth. Or in the language of that time, his title was Adan... or was it Adem? Adamem? She could not remember. It was in a book that her tutor had set for her to read as homework. She ought to look it up when she got back from today's Hunt. But anyway, the Houses existed even then - aristocratic families that ruled the far-flung lands and continents and kept the Emperor's Peace. But the Emperor and the Houses fell into disagreement and the Houses were dissolved and the aristocrats persecuted - the age-old King versus Parliament dispute that had since replayed itself countless times in countless civilizations.

But in the midst of this turmoil, the human masses rose up in rebellion. The humans had discovered how to manipulate energy in mysterious ways that even the Emperor and the Houses knew not. They used Runes, but not like any Runes the vampyrie (they were known only as the aristocrats then, her tutor had said, vampyrie was a name that came much later) knew of. And the energy these human rebels manipulated was even more mysterious. It was not something even the finely tuned senses of a vampyrr could detect. It was termed 'natural energy' - the energy that comes from the air, the sun, the earth, the trees. But since no vampyrr had ever seen or sensed this energy in any way, they had laughed it off as mere propaganda the rebels had spread to stir up support among the masses.

They were badly mistaken. Weakened by the struggle between the throne and the Houses, the civilization had collapsed in one decisive battle. The Imperial Capital was abandoned; the Emperor dead; the Houses scattered. Thereafter, the remnants of vampyrie regrouped and fought back against the rebels, but they were unable to reassert their power and authority as in days past. The former human subjects formed their own kingdoms, cultures and languages. The world was split asunder. So from that one, global, vampyrric Empire centred on the Imperial Capital, sprung forth myriads of human civilizations. The name of that forgotten Capital was Babel.

To this day, her textbook said, the rebels had persisted, forming what they called the Fellowship of Man. It lurked in the shadows, making war on the Houses that had survived. They refused the vampyrie their birthright as kings of the earth, seeking to frustrate and sabotage them at every turn. In this mission, the Fellowship neither succeeded nor failed. In spite of them, the vampyrie, with their mental abilities, ruled from the shadows, influencing kings, queens, presidents, despots and entire parliaments. What the Fellowship accomplished was preventing them from stepping out of the shadows.

So long as the Houses remained hidden, no one would believe the Fellowship if they were told that mind-altering, energy-sucking vampires were trying to take over the world. This state of the modern human mind, this disbelieving, cynical, proudly unsuperstitious mind with the slight feeling of smug superiority - this scientific mind - was the result of centuries of careful engineering as unseen hands shaped and massaged the collective psyche of the world. Books, films, the very word 'vampire' - these were the props in an act directed by shadowy figures hidden in the wings of the stage. Everyone from Stoker to the producers of Buffy would be able to trace their funding to some vampyrr-held organization, if they looked carefully enough. But let the one who looks beware, for many such overly inquisitive individuals often found themselves waking up in the cattle pens of some vampyrr's estate.

All was good and well if the vampyrie were content to manipulate the world from the shadows. But if they attempted to revive that great Empire of ages past, the humans would be roused from their slumber. They would begin to believe in and take seriously claims of world-conquering, mind-controlling vampires. And the Fellowship would be ready to arm them with the weapons for warfare - methods of using 'natural energy', Runes, the techniques that they had mastered over millenia for the hunting and disposal of their near-immortal enemies.

Vampyrie and Fellowship were locked in this balance of power, and had been for near five centuries now. The vampyrie could not emerge from the shadows - not yet. Not until the Fellowship and the packs of vampyrr hunters that were its arms and legs were wiped out, could this dark era be forgotten and a new Golden Age of vampyrric imperialism dawn. Lisette was not unproud of the fact that Father had been the Chief Architect of such a cunning plan for deceiving the world with science and reason - his obedient twin hounds that had followed at his heels since the times of Newton (who sported a strange 'birthmark' on his bum, though that is a little known fact). Its surpassing success was not the least of the reasons why her Father was considered, albeit grudgingly, as the leader of the Five Great Houses.

And as the thirteen year-old girl's thoughts reached this juncture, she could not help looking toward where Father stood, talking to a tall, olive-skinned lady. He was tall and handsome in appearance, having a grave, dignified and authoritative air that bordered on arrogance. A cascade of sparkling silver hair fell down his back - the same unique hair she had. Father told her it was the mark of a Silfer.

The tall dark skinned lady he was talking to was Lady Arleil. Her Ladyship was visiting House Silfer today, and she wore about her an unmistakable air of nobility, as befitting the leader of House Arleil, another of the five great Houses. Around them, gathered a little group of lords and ladies of minor houses, like little satellites gently tip-toeing around two planets. Most of the minor houses represented were allied with House Silfer, although her Ladyship's retinue included some lords allied to Arleil. The seat of House Arleil was Rome, and its power base the Mediterranean. The minor houses that honoured Arleil spanned Europe and stretched into the steppes that had been the highway of the Mongol horsemen of old. Besides Silfer and Arleil, the other three major Houses each dominated a particular geographic region. Intruding into another's domain would trigger all-out war, something that had not happened for near two thousand years. That did not mean it couldn't happen, but the Houses preferred subtle maneuvering to an expensive campaign. Especially not when their common enemy, the Fellowship, was watching hawkishly from the sidelines.

Lucier, Father's First Apprentice had come to the Hunt as well. Along with Boris, the Fourth Apprentice, a tall, lanky man with a constant stoop. Several vassals had come too. The houses were a meritocracy - not every vassal was equal; it all depended on their skill and strength. There were worthless pawns that you used as frontline infantrymen and hoped they didn't return. Then again, there were highly valued pieces you wouldn't want to lose in a hurry. The vassals who had come were the the best - Father wanted to display Silfer's strength in front of Lady Arleil and her minions.

Among the more highly regarded vassals of her House was Elki, who taught Lisette the energy arts whenever Father or his Apprentices were busy, which was often. Elki - who had come along today - was almost as powerful as an Apprentice and she was the only Natural in the House. Most vampyrie were made vampyrie by someone who initiated them by giving their Source that first drink of energy that heightened their minds to a new level. But Naturals were said to attain that without any help, often entirely by accident. They were rare, and were often more powerful than the average vampyrr. When she discovered her new abilities by accident, Elki had profited from them initially. However, although powerful, Elki had been untrained and had fallen prey to another vampyrr, one who hoped to drain her large reservoir of energies and so gain power for himself. Lord Silfer had rescued her and she had, out of gratitude, pledged her allegiance to him.

It was also a practical decision for Elki to pledge herself to a House. Out there, you didn't survive alone for long. Packs of hunters hunted with the advantage of numbers and sizable firepower. Predatory vampyrie who couldn't care less whether you were human, hunter or vampyrr longed to drink from the swollen reservoirs of your Source. There was a code of honour among the vampyrie of the Houses not to prey on another vampyrr. But codes of honour are only as good as the honour of the individual. And not every vampyrr was beyond a stolen bite when others were not looking.

'Three minutes to go!' someone announced loudly all of a sudden. A cheer came up from a group of vassals. Servants scrambled to check and tighten their masters' and mistresses' saddles, bridles and equipment. The short lances were hefted and given experimental thrusts to test their balance. Some were loading their ceremonial Derringers with powder and shot in case they had the fortune to make a kill during today's Hunt. Final preparations were made as the Hunt was about to begin. It was customary to release the prey an hour before into the hunting grounds - large tracts of wilderness that House Silfer bought and maintained for this particular purpose. The hunting party had arrived fifteen minutes before the start of the Hunt, but even that short wait made many eager vampyrie restless and impatient.

Being vampyrie, the Hunt was really a Man Hunt. And the only men worth hunting, were those dogs of the Fellowship of Man - vampyrr hunters. 'Hunting the hunters' was the old, tired and rather ragged one-liner vampyrie told each other out of force of habit on hunts like these. Today's prey was a group of five hunters who had been captured a month ago. They were armed with handguns and their usual swords, and given an hour's head start. If they escaped the Hunt and left the hunting grounds, they would be free to go. Countless centuries had passed since this custom came into place, but no hunter ever escaped.

Hunting hunters was a thrilling sport. There was no animal more exciting to hunt than a hunter. Hunters didn't stay hunted. They knew they could not outrun the horses, so escape was not an option. Instead, they doubled back, laid traps, set ambushes, and set upon the hunting party of vampyrie in sudden hit-and-run, guerrilla style attacks. It was a dangerous sport. Usually, they were given back all the weapons that they had on them when they were captured - shotguns with exploding shells, hunting rifles that were better suited for taking down elephants, the occasional grenade and such. But today, they were given only peashooters and swords, for the young heiress of Silfer was taking part - she was too important to risk, and at thirteen, still too young to properly defend herself. The skilled vassal, Elki, stayed close to her, and the two Apprentices made sure they kept an eye out for the safety of the young Miss.

The second hand hit twelve. The timekeeper, who had announced the three minute mark earlier, snapped his antique watch shut and pocketed it. Even as the horses began to trot forward into the densely wooded forest before them, a large hunting bugle was produced, and sounded. It made a long and mournful sound, the only lament the five unfortunate prey would ever get.